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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25755388">all for you, handsome</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/mysafeplaceishere/pseuds/mysafeplaceishere'>mysafeplaceishere</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>magenta eyes [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Invader Zim</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Forehead Kisses, Morning Cuddles, Romance, Soft Zim, Surprise Kissing</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 04:27:27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,564</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25755388</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/mysafeplaceishere/pseuds/mysafeplaceishere</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Zim hasn’t ever been given anything good. You plan to change that.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Zim (Invader Zim)/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>magenta eyes [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1790968</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>68</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>all for you, handsome</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/MetalMistress/gifts">MetalMistress</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Just a soft Zim fic for those that need more soft Zim in their life. :)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mornings used to irritate you.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Everything about them put a bad taste in your mouth from the sun splitting through your blinds to the making of breakfast. Some days you wished you could lay beneath your blankets and waste away. It always seemed better than actually getting the day started. The thought of dealing with people after a bad night of rest only made it worse.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You used to think that. But now that you have someone to share the morning with, it isn’t so terrible anymore. You find comfort in the silence as your partner sleeps the day away right at your side. If gazing at their sleeping face doesn’t satisfy you, then cuddling them certainly does. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You blink yourself awake, swallowing down the urge to yawn when sitting up to pop your back. The room is silent except for your breathing and you almost cringe when the pops from your spine ripples down the walls. You rub the remaining sleep from your eyes with a soft exhale. The bed feels all too comfortable on the days where errands need to be ran and today is one of those days. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Although today’s errands are much more important than your usual ones. Zim has been so understanding and attentive to your needs as of late—to the point where he won’t leave your side if he knows you aren’t doing well. If one didn’t know Zim’s charming but difficult personality, they would probably say he wouldn’t know a thing about caring for someone. Dib would most likely say that. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Zim is—undeniably—challenged in a lot of ways. Not just from the errors in his pak but also the things he has had to live through being hated his entire life. When one gets to know Zim and the way his brain works, you realize he is more than just some complex character to never be figured out. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You noticed right off the bat that he gets loud when flustered, embarrassed, or anxious in any type of situation. It’s his coping mechanism. The louder he is, the more powerful he feels. But when he is safe in his base where he knows he can’t be humiliated, he can be soft spoken and quiet to the point where you might not know where he is. That gentle nature of his brings out the vulnerability he’s been trying to shove down his entire life. When you came into the picture, it gave him a reason to let that vulnerability out after he realized you weren’t in his life to pick on him. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Should Zim trust you, anything and everything stored in that body of his is on display for you to see. That includes his motherly nature. Whether you are crying, angry or hurting physically, you haven’t had a moment where he isn’t right beside you to fix the problem. Zim is a problem solver; logical and calculated to a T. If you have a problem, he is going to fix it whether you like it or not. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">His way of fixing your own insecurities and sadness is to offer a distraction. Any time of the day, any time of the night—it doesn’t matter to him. You’re the person who hasn’t tried to tell him he’d amount to nothing, send him away to foreign planets, told him he was weird or too loud, or went out of your way to make fun of his failed attempts on earth. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">For that, you get to hold him, kiss him, and see sides of him other people wouldn’t think possible. You have thanked him on multiple occasions for treating you with such kindness but he simply brushes it off his shoulder, as if it was what he had to do all along. Unbeknownst to him, he doesn’t owe you anything but gives you the world. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You thank him regularly, but you haven’t truly shown him your thanks in actions. A simple few words from your mouth can’t compare to what you could do for him. Zim doesn’t accept much of anything physical because he sees it as useless. Things you would give to others means nothing to him. It took you awhile to conjure up some ideas on what to do for him but thankfully Gir can’t keep his mouth shut. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Apparently Zim had a secret love for Irken sugar cookies back on Irk when they were available to him. You were upset to find out that the ingredients needed to make them aren’t on earth, and no way would The Tallest send the resources needed to make them after what they did to Zim. So in a moment of stubbornness, you decided to make them your own way with the ingredients available to you. They may not be the same as what Zim loves back on Irk but you would still be showing you appreciation for him. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Not to mention he devours anything with sugar in it. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You know you should get out of the bed and start preparing yourself for the public eye but when your gaze travels to your sleeping boyfriend beside you, those worries of the day melt away. His sleeping face is so peaceful, so enchanting that you end up sinking back into your mattress to admire him closer. His expression, his perfect skin, the way one of his hands rests just under his cheek. You can’t help but crack a smile. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The urge to reach out and cradle him to your body becomes unbearable. You shift closer to carefully sling an arm around his small torso to drag him closer and his face falls into your chest. His antennae brush the sides of your face when they lift from his scalp, alerting you that he’s awake but unwilling to move from the position. He only curls further into the curve of your body with a very sleepy groan. His hand wraps around your back and grabs a fistful of your shirt to make sure you aren’t going anywhere. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Goodmoring, my almighty shortest,” you lay a kiss to his forehead. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Zim’s eyes crack open to stare up at your face, taking in the way you gaze him over so intimately. His face flushes as soon as the nickname leaves your lips. You don’t expect him to snuggle his face into the softness of your chest to hide and tickle your face with his antennae as an early morning Irken way of kissing. He greets you back with a few clicks of his language, muffled by your shirt. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You have no clue as to what he might be saying but it never fails to remind you that he isn’t of your world. The green skin and small stature became normal in your daily routine and you forget most days he’s an alien that wanted to destroy your world at first. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I need to get up,” you give him a gentle tap on the forearm, “there are a lot of things I have to get done today.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No,” he hisses, body shuttering from the force, “I don’t want to leave yet.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You inwardly shrug and squeeze him tighter. Cookies would have to wait. A purr of appreciation replaces his territorial hissing and it reminds you of a feral house cat. You both lay there, taking in the silence of the morning. Zim eventually scoots up onto your pillow to be face to face with you. His three fingered, ungloved hand comes to rest on your cheek. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Did you sleep well, my love?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You give him a relaxed smile in which makes his chest rumble with another purr. “I sleep good when you sleep. And seeing as you passed out as soon as you flopped onto the bed, I’d say yeah.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">His separation anxiety keeps him from going back to his base at night. Much less sleep. The poor thing can’t go a whole day without seeing you before panicking. You decided to let him stay with you at night. Not that you minded in the slightest. You prefer having him close enough to reach out and touch when comfort is needed. While Irkens don’t need to sleep, you know it helps Zim calm down on hard days and therefore you try to get him to sleep most nights. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Zim is fine, you silly human,” he gives you an eye roll. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You choose to ignore his unintentional attitude, as you know he can’t change his own boisterous personality, and lean forward to peck him on the lips. His snarky expression falls into an embarrassed one, seemingly caught off guard by the gesture despite being kissed quite often. You found out real quick at the beginning of the relationship that he lacked any affection from his younger years on Irk. He simply doesn’t know how to handle it sometimes. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Just tell me when you aren’t fine, you stubborn space bug,” you reach up to flick him on the forehead. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He looks appalled that you would say such a thing to him. Him, the Almighty Zim. You laugh when he threateningly flicks his tongue at you, much like a snake. He grumbles about being called a space bug as he tries squirming out of your grasp to leave the bed. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You click your own tongue and, with a bit of shuffling, straddle yourself over his tiny body to keep him from leaving the room all together. His narrowed eyes widen in alarm when you pin his wrists to the bed with one of your hands over his head. A confused hum bubbles up your throat when his face flushes the darkest shade of green and his expression morphs into something almost desperate. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">When it finally hits you why, the possessive grin that curls at your mouth makes Zim struggle against your grip with a growl. His legs kick at the mattress as if it would make you release your hold on him. You watch him tire himself out with lidded eyes until he goes limp, nervously staring up at you. What makes your chest flutter with butterflies is the fact that he could remove himself from the situation at any time. All he would have to do is use the retractable legs from his pak to pry you off. You wouldn’t resist it if he did.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You haven’t really tried anything beyond slight kissing with him, maybe a nibble or two on his neck when feeling brave enough. Nothing like pinning him to the bed. He didn’t seem comfortable enough with the extra parts to an intimate relationship, and you didn’t want to force anything on him that he wasn’t ready for as he hasn’t had any sexual experience. This makes you think that maybe he had wanted a bit more than a slight peck all this time. He never would have brought it up. You want to explore this new territory until you get the feeling he can’t take going further. Right now, though, you can feel him tremble in anticipation.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Anger flares in his eyes as soon as the struggling ceases. “Let me go. I won’t be-“</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I thought you didn’t want to leave yet. That’s what you said a minute ago,” you cut him off with a matter of fact tone. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">His mouth opens to give an excuse but you shut him up by leaning up to kiss at the base of his antenna, right where he’s the most sensitive. A tremor ripples through his body as soon as your lips make contact. You can’t see his face from this angle but if you have to guess, you would say his whole face is consumed by a blush. A choked, under the breath gasp leaves him when you use your free hand to thumb the end of his antenna whilst still kissing the base. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Have anything to say, Zim? No famous come back? I would love to hear your thoughts,” you whisper before ghosting your lips back down to his cheek. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Just that you release me this instant! I have things that need to be attended to,” he gives a pathetic glare in turn.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I would,” you lean back to admire him in whole, “but I like what I see.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">His beautifully colored magenta eyes are glazed over, partly hazy with something you would describe as need—a bit of humiliation, maybe. Seeing him flustered and speechless makes you giddy. Not to mention he’s wearing one of your t-shirts as his sleepwear. It’s baggy and swallows him from neck all the way down to his knees but you can’t deny seeing him so bothered in it isn’t a sweet treat.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You lean back down so that your lips barely brush against his own, grinning from ear to ear. He doesn’t bother trying to maintain eye contact with you, staring straight at your mouth as you gradually press yourself forward. You kiss him slowly, taking the time to mold your lips together in the perfect fit. His body arches upward as soon as contact is made. You can feel his hands clench into fists when you give him bottom lip a slight nip. Nothing that will hurt him but enough to have him feel it for the rest of the day. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You slip your free hand underneath his shirt to trail the warm pads of your fingers up his side. The fact that he lets you do it makes your heart flutter. If anyone else tried to touch his bare stomach, they would get decapitated on the spot. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hey, so, what do you have planned today?” You pull away with a inquisitive purse of your lips. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Zim’s antennae quirk upwards at the question. His eyes still shine with slight embarrassment but he quickly swallows it down with his usual gusto. You unpin his hands and flop back onto the bed to give him room to sit up.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I was thinking I should make better communicators. You have work most days,” he taps his bottom lip in thought. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Like a phone?” You raise a brow at him. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Eegh, no! Not something so primitive as a phoone! You humans have the basics of technology.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Phone,” you correct him with a held up finger. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Whatever.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You laugh at his snark. He crosses his arms at you, eyes squinted and antennae standing as tall as they can to make him seem more intimidating. He is anything but intimidating in the moment, not when he’s wearing your shirt and lacking his usual pink and black aesthetic. You swoop down to press a kiss to his cheek. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Will you be down in your lab most of today, then?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“The communicators should take a few hours at most. I would be able to get them done faster should I have the needed materials, but I will have to make do with what I have,” he shakes his head with a displeasured growl, rubbing the spot on his cheek that you kissed. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m sure they’ll turn out fine,” you stand from your bed with a smile sent in his direction.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You shuffle around the room to collect the things you will need for the day such as the spare cash you have laying on your dresser. Zim continues to sit on the bed and watches your every move, secretly admiring the beauty of your bare skin in that tank top. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Fine? Fine?! They will be so much better compared to that stupid, useless phoone you have!” He clenches his hands into fists and shakes them at no one in particular. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You dig through your closet for the perfect shirt for the day. Once you have one picked out, you peek your head around the closet door and offer him a knowing grin. It makes his body go alight twitch fire and he chases away the feeling by roughly tugging on his antennae. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Phone.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">A hiss is what you get in return. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">•••</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You had made sure to walk Zim home before heading to the store. He was reluctant in leaving your side but you assured him you would be back to check up on him later in the day. You had shoved him through the door by his shoulders, gave him a quick peck on the forehead and bolted. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Your unusual behavior had him watch you leave his front lawn with narrowed eyes. It took all your willpower to keep from giggling at the suspicious stare and the way he slowly slunk back into his base with a flick of his tongue. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">After pulling up to the parking lot of the store, you pull out your list for the ingredients needed. You were lucky that the computer decided to help you out with the surprise and gave you this list for everything you would need. Once inside of the store, you grab you cart and get to work. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">While trying to pick out what flour you would need, a tap on your shoulders makes you jump seven feet in the air with a yelp. The sound of familiar laughter makes you turn around with hands on your hips. You’re met with slicked back black hair, big round glasses and a cheeky grin. The urge to not smile at seeing Dib after not being able to hang out for weeks is difficult. His joy is infectious. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Dude, are you trying to make me alert the whole store?” Your face twists into a scowl. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He pushes up his glasses with a breathy chuckle. “Sorry, the opportunity was too good to pass up. I miss picking on you.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You finally let your lips curl upwards when he reaches out to embrace you tight. Your hands clamp together behind his lower back so you can dig your face into his shoulder. When you pull back after a moment of a much needed hug, you look him up and down with pursed lips. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Did you get taller?” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He shoves his hands into his jacket pockets with a nod. His one strand of hair that sticks up whips with the motion. “A little bit. What? Are you jealous I’m finally taller than you?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You swat at his hands when he goes to ruffle your hair in the typical brotherly fashion. “You may be taller but I could still beat you up.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">His hands lands on your shoulder and gives you an affectionate squeeze. You lay your hand on top of his to return his affection. “I wouldn’t doubt it.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The rest of your shopping trip is met with friendly chatter and Dib even helps you take your bags to the car after you check out. He went from a scrawny twelve year old boy to a teenager that stands taller than his own dad. While he still stands slimmer than most guys his age, you have no doubt he could take you down in a fight if it ever came to that. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Before I go, I have one question.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You take out your keys with a raised brow. “Hit me. What’s up?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What’s all the baking stuff for?” He gestures to your trunk full of sugary ingredients. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You don’t want to lie to him and say you’re baking for yourself. The last thing you want to do is lose Dib’s trust, seeing as he doesn’t trust a whole lot of people at all. Or anyone, for that matter. But you can’t tell him that you’re dating Zim quite yet. It wouldn’t be right to throw it in his face and then take off with no explanation. You want to sit him down and tell him that you may or may not be dating his rival that he’s hated for years. It could potentially put a bridge between you both, and that’s the last thing you want. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You can’t lie but you won’t give him every detail to your master plan.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Well,” you scratch the back of your head, “I’m making cookies for my boyfriend as a surprise.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dib’s face goes slack in surprise. “You have a boyfriend?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“For over a year and a half,” you offer an awkward smile, to which he hums at the new revelation. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“When do I get to meet him?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You wring your hands together to ease your panic. “Soon. I promise. I haven’t told anyone, if it makes you feel better. I just want to find the perfect moment to... introduce you.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dib slicks back his hair with his hand with an easy grin that makes your tense shoulders sag. He takes the opportunity to ruffle your hair and you don’t try to fight against him. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I can’t wait to meet him then. You better not keep me waiting for too long,” he gives you a pointed look, one that says he’s serious. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">After assuring him that it won’t be too much longer, you both part ways with another hug. You then hop in your car and race back to Zim’s house with an anxious yet excited twist in your stomach. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You peek your head through the front door and breathe a sigh of relief when seeing that Zim is no where in sight. You haul your bag through the living room as quietly as you can because you know that if Zim gets any indication you’re back, he won’t hesitate to come up and see you. If he were to see the bags, his nosy self wouldn’t be able to keep his grubby hands from rifling through them. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It would be easier to make the treats over at your home, but then they wouldn’t be fresh by the time you got back Zim’s house. The risk will be worth the reward if you can pull this off. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Computer, could you do something for me?” You speak in a soft tone whilst setting the bags on the table. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What would that be, Lady (Y/n)?” It replies in a tone that matches yours, much to your delight. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Could you trap Zim down there for a little bit?” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You can hear the pleasure in its voice when it answers back with a low, “anything for you.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">With the knowledge of not being disturbed, you set to work with a rub of your hands. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">•••</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Zim holds up the newly made communicator with a crease between his eyes. This piece of machinery would work fine for doing its designed purpose, but something about it sets him on edge. Maybe the fact that it resembles that phone you carry in your hand day to day. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It feels too primitive, too ineffective. If he doesn’t trust it, then he certainly won’t give it to the one person he hopes to protect. It’s a good thing he didn’t make two of the things—that would mean more to dispose of. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">With a hiss, he throws the communication device over his shoulder. His antennae quirk upwards when it hits the metal floor and makes a loud, irritating clang that echoes throughout the room. He had spent a good thirty minutes just constructing the plans on paper before actually building it together. Now it feels like he’s wasted too much time to get any real work done before you get back. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He’d wanted to surprise you. While you knew he was building two, you didn’t know that he’d be adding more to it than communication features. Maybe he could add a weapon or two to keep you safe when traveling home late at night after work. It pains him to admit it, even inside his own head, but he can’t be by your side to protect you at every second. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Zim taps his chin in thought. It wouldn’t hurt to take a moment to think before moving onto the next plans he had drawn up. He pads over to his computer chair to plop down. If you were here, you wouldn’t hesitate to take him into your arms and remind him it wouldn’t hurt to do something unproductive. You would also kiss him until he was out of breath and clinging to your shirt. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Zim finds himself sinking deeper into his chair the more he ponders on you. A soft smile graces his face at the thought of seeing you again—and soon, too. The faint blue glow of his computer screen reflects off his shiny eyes that hold the most affection. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He can’t wait to hold you again, see your smile, feel you body heat through his tunic. What he wouldn’t give to run his hands through your hair at this moment. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">His smile falls at the realization that he can’t. What was taking you so long to get back? </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Zim twists around in his chair to stare at the exit elevator. His hands clench and unclench, the latex of his gloves squeaking from the force of every squeeze. His antennae wiggle back and force as he ponders the idea of leaving the underground base to check for you. It wouldn’t be too clingy if he did that, right? </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Computer,” he calls out, eyes flickering back and forth from between the exit back to his work bench. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Ugh, what do you want?” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh, lose the attitude! What time is it?” Zim shouts back, waving his tiny hand at the screen. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s currently 3:00 in earth time. Why?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Zim stands from his chair and dusts off the front of his tunic with his hands despite there being nothing to dust off. The heels of his boot click against the floor as he makes his way to the exit, hands folded behind his back. If the computer had eyes, he is sure they would be watching him make his way out of the room. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">When he clicks the elevator button, it doesn’t light up as it should. Zim tilts his head and presses it again to have nothing happen. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Computer, why isn’t the elevator working?” He calls out, still staring at the button with narrowed eyes. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Sorry, Master. I’ve been told to keep you from leaving this room,” the computer retorts in a sickeningly satisfied tone of voice. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“WHAT? BY WHOM DID I GIVE AUTHORITY TO COMMAND YOU?” Zim shrieks in rage, antennae trembling against his scalp. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Who else?” A mechanical sounding scoff follows. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Zim pauses, face falling into one of confusion that slowly spreads to one of hurt. You didn’t trap him down here, did you? This only other person with permission to enter and control his base would be you and only you. Gir didn’t count seeing as he was programmed into the circuitry itself. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The thought of being trapped in his own base without control makes his skin burn. If you did in fact trap him down here, then he’s going to find out why. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Fine then! I don’t need your help to get out of here!” Zim stomps back over to the central computer, teeth grit together. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">His hands fall over the keyboard and a sound of protest comes from the computer before it sizzles into silence. Zim stares at the shut down codes that flicker across the screen with a dip in his brow, both anxiety and rage turning his blood ice cold. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The elevator wouldn’t work without the control of the central computer behind the reigns unless he took the time to recode the entire base to react to his touch alone, but that would take too much time. The legs from his pak pry open the elevator doors with a hard shove. Zim peers into the narrow shaft to see he’d be able to crawl his way back up. So that’s exactly what he does. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">His pak legs dig into the metal walls one at a time until he reaches the top, which spits him out in the living room. His pak legs retract once he’s feet are safely touching the multicolored green and purple flooring. Nothing that his eyes can see is out of the ordinary, but the smell of the house is much sweeter than it normally is. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">His antennae lift ever so slightly as he peers around the living room corner to find you in the kitchen. You have your earbuds in while your hands work away at a bowl of what seems to be some kind of batter. He’s seen you bake before. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You take a second from stirring your mixture to tuck some hair behind your ear. Zim’s hand clenches the fabric of his tunic at the action. How you made something so normal, so human beautiful is beyond him. Just the peaceful look on your face is enough to make his legs feel like jelly. He would love to cradle your face, but he also can’t get over the fact that you trapped him down there with no explanation.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You slip on an oven mitt Gir had gotten you as a random present one day to pull out a tray of cookies from the stove. Zim stares at them with wide eyes before glaring at you. He steps out from behind the corner to shout at you after the hot pan isn’t in your hand anymore.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What on Irk do you think you’re doing?!” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Despite having earbuds blasting music on, you throw your hands up with a screech when hearing Zim’s voice. The oven mitt flys across the room and hits the wall. Your hands are still held up in defense when you turn around to meet the irritated gaze of your boyfriend. His hands are settled on his hips and his fingers drum in an anxious manner. You take out your earbuds with a nervous smile.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Ohhhh... hi, uh, Zim,” you awkwardly laugh, almost shamefully scratching the back of your head.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Zim extends a hand at the mess, eyes practically on fire. “What is this?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You cast a glance back at your surprise, eyebrows raised. When you don’t answer immediately, he starts back up again. Only this time he’s pacing around the kitchen as he scolds you.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You know what? I don’t care! I want to know why you trapped me down there,” he crosses his arms, glaring.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You blink a few times. How does someone so small hold so much dangerous energy? You knew better than to think you could keep him down there. Zim is too smart for his own good.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I wanted to surprise you,” you answer in a genuine voice.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Zim’s arms fall from his chest to hang limp. His face holds shock after hearing your explanation. “Surprise me?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">A timid smile takes over your mouth as you reach over to pluck a warm cookie from the pan. You shuffle over and bend down to match Zim’s height, hands outstretched to offer him the treat. He stares at it as if he isn’t sure what to do with it. He looks lost.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Gir told me your favorite thing to eat back on Irk was Irken sugar cookies. I know we don’t have those ingredients here on earth but I did my best to recreate them for you,” you continue to hold out the cookie.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Zim slowly takes it from your grasp, staring at it like it is something he has never laid eyes on before. “Why?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“As a thank you,” you reach out to smooth back his antennae, “for taking care of me.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Zim holds the cookie to his chest with glossy eyes. “So this is for me? Really? I’ve never been given anything like this.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You unexpectedly scoop him into your arms and dip him down enough to press multiple kisses across his face. He doesn’t resist like he usually would. You nuzzle your cheek into his with the brightest smile that could stretch across your face. His antennae leave soft taps across your scalp as a way of saying thank you.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I don’t know why everyone treats you awful. You deserve so much more than just some cookies.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You set him back down on the floor and gesture to the cookie in his hand. He looks down at it, narrows his eyes and shoves the whole thing is his mouth at once. Your lips part, astounded at the dedication he put into that one cookie. But the way his eyes light up gives you butterflies throughout your entire body.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Zim dusts the crumbs off his face and gloves, never breaking eye contact with you. “I think these are better than the ones on Irk.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You know better than to believe that, but your face warms at the words anyway. You eventually grab a plate big enough to stack the cookies on and hand the plate over to Zim. He takes it with a blush of his own.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“All for you, handsome.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Zim shakes his head. You raise a brow when he stalks behind you and headbutts your knees to make you walk forward. You get the hint and the two of you shuffle into the living room where Zim puts his plate of cookie on the couch before climbing up himself. Once he’s settled between his favorite spot on the couch, he pats the spot beside him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m not eating these without the one who made them.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You don’t deny his subtle request and sit down beside him, close enough where he can snuggle into your side. He snatches a cookie from the plate and holds it up to you without a word. You take it without complaint.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The rest of the day is spent eating the cookies you made and watching tv. Zim makes sure to thank you at the end of it all with a gentle kiss to your lips.</span>
</p><p class="p1">Worth it. </p>
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